


The Shape Of You

by xoPeapup



Series: AFTERCARE [4]
Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Zombie Apocalypse, Anal Sex, Dominance, M/M, Making Out, Negan is a dirtytalker, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-10
Updated: 2018-06-10
Packaged: 2019-05-20 11:58:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14894234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xoPeapup/pseuds/xoPeapup
Summary: Rick meets someone who leaves a lasting impression and turns his life in a totally new directionor pwp because Negan goes cruising





	The Shape Of You

**Author's Note:**

> Recent events made my heart feel funny (kinda the same problem the Grinch had around Christmas) and I had the sudden urge to fanfic my beloved sweaty-bear *givestheRickanextracuddle*
> 
> Thank you to my twitter puppy for helping to fix the 'Crisco-Gate 2018'

**The Shape Of You**

 

 

He was still numb. Two hours driving aimlessly through town had done nothing to silence his screaming mind. Her venomous words had landed in his guts like a shrapnel, resounding over and over in his head, stabbing his heart deeper with each repetition he allowed. The image of her furiously running through the house to collect random pieces of clothing and stuff them into the cheap weekend bag they had won at the silly raffle at Carl's school carnival, would stick with him forever. Or maybe the image of her dragging their confused son across the driveway and into the car. Their new car. The one they had just bought in March and would be busy paying off for the next three years.

He couldn't believe she was gone. He couldn't believe she had finally left him. After all the fights and pointless arguments. After all the hateful accusations. The blame and resentment. Tears and broken dishes. He wanted to understand it, but didn't. Estranged. What did that even mean? She felt like she was sleeping next to a stranger recently? How could that be possible after all these years? She knew him better than anyone on the planet! She was the only one knowing him to the core. She used to understand him, could make him happy, comfort him, make his heart explode with just a small word or smile. When had that changed and how was it his fault? He had tried everything! Shouting back, being silent. Giving her space, taking her for a romantic getaway over the weekend. Flowers, her favorite meal, compliments. It was like tilting at windmills. No matter what he did, no matter what he tried, it was wrong or not good enough. In the end she hadn't even bothered anymore to hide her disgust whenever he attempted to show affection. She couldn't even stand to be in the same room with him. _'You make me sick'_. That's what she had told him. And while she spat those words out she had really looked like she was about to vomit. Like he was a disease.

He wrinkled his nose, then pinched it, blinking his eyes when everything on the other side of the windshield got blurry.

He wanted to hate her. He really tried. But he couldn't, she was his wife, the mother of his child, the partner he had built a home with, the person he wanted by his side for the rest of his life.

Hating himself, however, was easy. Very much so. He just had to think of Carl's face, the fear, and incomprehension in his eyes. The anger. The tears.

Rick wiped his eyes, shaking his head once. It was like a nightmare he couldn't wake up from. It felt like his life was over. Why didn't she just kill him, it would have been kinder. Instead, she walked away, not shedding a single tear, his happiness in her pocket. Leaving him in his misery, as alone as a person could possibly be.

He sniffed his nose and took a sound breath, trying to compose himself. He looked around, not even sure what part of town he ended up in. It didn't really look familiar. He stopped at the side of the street, parking his old car between a small red Polo and a polished black Tahoe. It was almost midnight, at least if his stupid clock was properly functioning right now. Most times it wasn't.

He got a pack of paper tissues out of the glove compartment, pulling one out to blow his runny nose. As he flicked the pack back in, he found a box of mints and popped two between his puffy lips, realizing how dry his mouth was.

His gaze fell to the left. There was a bar at the other side of the street. ATLANTA EAGLE. It looked kind of shabby, but the little rainbow flag above the entrance actually made him feel 1% better for some reason. Better and a bit anxious, just for a second. He pulled the sunshade down to check his face in the mirror. It wasn't as bad as he had thought. He smoothed his hair back a little and folded the shade back up, then checked his wallet for money. $85. Hopefully enough to drink himself into a pleasant torpescence if he chose his liquor wisely.

He got out and shut the door, not even bothering to get his keys out. The lock didn't work anyway.

There was a bouncer at the entry but he was busy checking his phone and the door was open, so he just walked in. The smell of booze, slight sweat and something mysteriously sweet hit his nostrils. It was warm and dimly lit, the ground throbbing beneath his feet with a hard bass that he could feel all through his body. The club was crowded by men of all ages, most of them wearing at least one piece of leather gear.

For a moment he considered to leave again, feeling almost offended as he looked around and realized how openly these guys displayed their affection for each other. But then he saw the bar and the free spot there looked inviting. At least better than his old car or his empty home at the other side of town.

He sat down, ordering a beer. Then quickly changed his mind and asked the young barkeeper for a double Scotch. He didn't have the money or patience to start with a beer if he wanted to get royally drunk.     

"Sure." The barkeeper winked at him with a smirk and filled the glass right in front of his eyes. "Enjoy, honey."

Rick's lips contorted in slight repulsion. But he refrained from commenting on the inappropriate way to interact with a hetero, paying customer and instead took a big gulp of his drink, enjoying the sharp burn coating his throat.

An hour later, after his third drink, the seventh 'honey' and second 'sweetheart', he didn't care anymore. Every name these people gave him was still better than the 'losers' and 'idiots' his wife called him.

The fourth drink was free, because he was invited by a man in his early 60's who called himself 'Master Dirk'. It was a Daiquiri and he accepted it after a few seconds of hesitation. Ten minutes later he abandoned his spot at the bar because his bladder itched uncomfortably and Master Dirk suggested a visit at the backroom.

The toilets were on the first floor and the way upstairs a strenuous slalom across the dancefloor and through at least 50 guys who crowded the stairs, dancing and chatting with their drinks in hand. The upper floor was more a lounge area with leather armchairs and small tables. A strong cigar-smell found its way into his alcohol numbed mind, along with the tunes of a new song the DJ decided to play. It made his stomach clench immediately, the lyrics mocking his heart. It was their song. The one they had danced to, made love to, told each other their deepest feelings in a moment of vulnerability.  

A bowl of nuts and a glass of beer almost fell off one of the small tables when he bumped hard against it. He didn't apologize or even gave it a second thought, but practically fled towards the back, behind a dark curtain, and through a heavy door into the restroom. The sudden bright light irritated him, just like the solid tall body he accidentally ran into. Musky cologne, cool leather, soft shirt. A big hand catching him safely right above his hipbone. A deep voice, calm and gentle, blanketing his aching ears and screaming mind.

"Careful."

It wasn't a threat or warning, more a word of concern and comfort. He didn't look up, but the image of black leather with a silver zipper and bright white shirt underneath stayed with him as he vanished into one of the toilet stalls and closed the door behind him, the click of the latch and the red color above the handle allowing him to breathe again. His heart seemed to tumble in his chest for a second or two and for a moment he just stood there, not sure what he actually wanted to accomplish in this room.

His itching bladder reminded him as he glanced at the lidless toilet seat and his cheeks reddened a bit more when a thick stream of urine splattered into the bowl, as loud as the Niagara Falls. The room seemed quiet when he unlocked the door but his lungs shrunk a size as he stepped out and saw a man standing at the row of sinks and mirrors, tall and trim, a broad leather-clad back and dark hair. He pinched his nose and cleared his throat, picking the sink next to the door. The cold water felt extremely good on his fingers and he bathed them a bit longer under the short tap than he would have needed to.

Reaching for the soap dispenser made him glance up, meeting dark eyes in the mirror. They smiled, matching confidently crooked lips.

Rick couldn't help but stare for just a moment, spellbound by the man's handsome features. Cut cheekbones, trimmed beard and slightly ruffled hair.

A blob of cheap soap fell past his hand onto the floor when he blindly pushed the plastic lever of the dispenser.

The stranger didn't comment on it, nor on the instant blush creeping over Rick's cheeks. He just shook the water off his fingers, refrained from using the hand dryer on the wall and offered a last smirk before he left the restroom, pushing the door open with his shoulder.

A strange sense of disappointment poked into Rick's guts as he was left alone to wash his hands with way too much soap. He looked at his own reflection in the mirror, finding tired eyes, dry lips and frizzed hair that stubbornly fought its way out of the taming product that was supposed to straighten his natural curls because Lori thought they made him look like a clown.

Maybe it was time to go back home. Or to the house that he used to refer as such until now.

\----

Negan wasn't the biggest fan of the Eagle, but it had been one of the toughest weeks since he had opened his new store and he was in desperate need of an anonymous fuck and half a bottle of Scotch, and this place was usually able to provide both. Even though it hadn't looked that bright on the fuck-front until midnight, before he had spotted a qualified guy, downstairs, at the main bar. Definitely a newbie, bit of a stick up his cute ass, but the most beautiful face he had seen inside these filthy walls for the past months. He was a sucker for the pretty ones, especially the ones who weren't aware of their beauty.

It had been a fortunate coincidence that his soon-to-be-one night stand bumped into him in the restroom. Getting a first whiff and feel was nice and confirmed his choice even more. Now it was time to reel his prey in. Gently.

He stood near the stairs, leaning against the railing of the gallery to watch the restroom door, figuring the guy would need a moment to compose himself before he came back out. He had seemed upset. Unsettled. Probably in need of a drink after a fight with the girlfriend.  Not uncommon in this part of the town. 40% of the clientele here were men in distress or denial.

A sly smile tipped the corner of his mouth up when the door swung open and he gave the man that stepped out an appreciative once-over. Oh yes, he had made an excellent choice. Gorgeous features. Lean but well-defined body. An insecure flicker in blue eyes that betrayed the confident stride he performed since he had set foot in this location. His outfit was kinda cute. Cowboy boots to skinny jeans and a matching denim shirt that sported some wet spots where he had dried his hands.

Negan changed his look from predatory to warm and friendly as soon as their eyes met. And it wasn't even a put-on. The way this man frowned at him and nervously rubbed his still damp palms into the well-worn denim of his pants was just adorable.

Negan blinked slowly with a slight purse of his lips, pushing off the railing. "Leaving already?"

Rick's eyes instantly darted from the mouth that had spoken to him to a random spot in the room. He had hoped to see the stranger again before he left, but he hadn't planned to talk to him. And now that it happened he had no idea what to do, feeling highly uncomfortable. He pinched his nose, giving a reply in a kind of defiant tone. "I'm not gay." He heard a low chuckle and moved into a wider stance, putting his hands defensively on his hips when the man came slowly closer.

"Hm." Negan didn't lose his smile, tilting his head as he scrutinized the nervous man from closest distance, almost nose to nose. "Shame." He took his time to watch a faint red blushing pale cheeks before he moved even closer, speaking next to the man's ear in his lowest bedroom voice. "I thought you wanna take me home. Show me your bed so I can make love to you. Make your fucking sheets smell like me for the rest of the week."

Rick didn't dare to blink as musk, Scotch and warm leather invaded his senses, the sultry words heating up his insides with embarrassment and a strange excitement that made him really angry. What was this guy thinking? He took his hands up to push against a broad chest but failed to make the man move, so he made a step back himself, irritated by the hard pecs underneath such soft fabric. "No." He tried for a firm tone and emphasized it with a scowl right at the stranger's handsome face. "I'm married." At least on the paper, he still was.

"Hh." A mixture of amusement and adoration made Negan's eyes shine. He swiped the tip of his tongue along his teeth, stopping at his right canine tooth, which he sucked with a sizzling sound while he examined the other man's defiant features. "I see. Where is she tonight?"

The scowl on Rick's face grew markedly deeper. "Visiting her parents." Together with Carl and half of their belongings. And just until she would find a new apartment.

"Hm." Negan pursed his lips, nodding. "Well, good for her." He arched his brows with a tilt of his head to the left, towards the bar. "Would she mind if I buy you a drink while she's outta town?"

Rick's eyes narrowed into a hostile squint while his thoughts were racing, trying to come up with the right reply. And the best they came up with was a 'Guess not' that sounded neither very friendly nor confident.

Negan was pleased anyway, pointing an arm in the direction of the more luxurious lounge bar counter. "Lead the way then."

\----

His pickup's name was Rick. Rick Grimes. And it took two whiskey sour and a Manhattan for him to open up. About his job at the police, his son's last school play where he had totally fucked up the stage decoration, his wife's last birthday party and the huge 'why we all should go vegan' family drama. Negan was totally enthralled. With the way Rick's eyes crinkled when he laughed. With the way he constantly tried to smooth his rebellious hair down, obviously embarrassed by his curls. With the sad expression in his clear blue eyes whenever the name 'Lori' was mentioned. With these sculpted pink lips that made his dick twitch.

"Man, it was horrible." Rick shook his head with a laugh, sipping his drink. "Have you ever tried to barbecue a zucchini?"

"Hm." Negan circled the bottom rim of his glass on the damp counter. "I'm sure she just had your health in mind."

"Th." Rick snorted, taking a hard swallow of his drink, barely tasting it.

"I would feed you vegetables all day long." Negan shrugged. "Preserve your fucking beauty forever." He cocked a brow, smirking when he received a bewildered sideglance and raised his glass in a silent toast before he emptied it.

Rick watched with a slight glare. "Just stop. I look like shit." He muttered the last bit, avoiding his eyes.

Negan put his glass down, getting off his bar stool with a sigh and stepped in front of his trick, so close, his chest touched the man's arm.

"What are you doing." An irritated notch formed between Rick's brows. He tried to back away when a big hand slid along the side of his face, brushing his ear and hair. "Told you I'm not gay." His protest came out a bit weak and he held very still, captivated by sincere dark eyes studying every detail of his face.

Negan didn't smile, bringing his other hand up to rest his wrist on the man's shoulder while he played with a pretty corkscrewed strand of hair. "Would she mind if I kiss you while she's out of town?"  

Rick felt heat climbing up through his chest into his throat, a small pained smile flickering over his features. "Guess not." His fingers toyed absently with the silver zipper at the sleeve of a heavy leather jacket and he backed away a last time when this tall man moved another inch closer, firmly cupping the side of his face. But then he just stopped and closed his eyes with the first touch of soft lips against his mouth. He didn't breathe, his fingers stilling, his world on a halt before it started to spin and twirl in a frenzy he had never experienced before.

He had kissed a lot in his life. Passionate, sweetly, incidentally. But never like this. Kind of harsh but still perceptive. Determined. Full of lust and volition. Rough beard and strong liquor. Never had he been the one who was taken and pulled into a kiss as if he was the most desirable person in the world. Never had he been held and cradled, with confident hands that spread reassurance and safety through their touch. Never had he felt so lost and free at the same time, exempted from everything that was complicated, tough and sad in his life.     

Never had he been so overpowered by anything. Male scent, hard touch, firm body, strong lips. Leather and a thick, spicy cologne. It took his breath away and opened his body for every other possibility. He felt fingers in his hair, and a hand holding him in place by the back of his neck. He noticed his dick swelling and something deep inside him throbbing with full excitement. His own hands searching for contact, holding on to a heavy leather jacket and the soft shirt underneath. He could feel a hard stomach, muscles and the shape of a perfect body. A male body. Tall and muscular. Strong. Not in any way comparable to the soft, female curves he was used to.

He spread his thighs without even thinking about it when skilled fingers fondled him through his pants, making him rock hard and groan into the kiss in an instant.

"Mhm." Negan growled against wet lips. "Thought so."

\----

A much too high alcohol level made the decision to leave a brand new Tahoe and barely functioning Ford Fiesta behind in favor of a taxi. There was no talk at all, all the way to the other side of town. But the driver turned up the volume of the radio when the action on the backseat got a bit too steamy for his liking.

Negan didn't comment on the clichéd suburban family home with 'Welcome' doormat in the front and pathetically tiny apple tree in the backyard. He paid for the taxi and took Rick by the hand, leading the way to the door. Inside it smelled faintly of the last cooked meal and carpet shampoo. He wandered around the hallway and living room, looking at all the pictures on the wall. Christmas, vacation, family portrays. Lori was a pretty one, the boy took after her. Rick looked proud and happy in most of the pictures. Like a fun guy to hang out with.

"You want a coffee or something?"

Negan didn't answer, just signaled a 'No, I'm good' with a wave of his fingers and shake of the head, observing the book collection on one of the shelves. Harry Potter and Lord of the Rings. Good fucking gracious.  

"Some music maybe?" Rick wasn't sure if he had to vomit or wanted to run away. He couldn't believe what he had gotten himself into. There was a man in his house, a man he had met at a gay bar, a man who had almost made him cum like a teenager in the backseat of a taxi. This was the home of his family. Where Lori had nursed little Carl and changed his diapers. Where their Christmas tree stood for exactly 5 weeks every year. This wasn't a good idea. At all.

"No." Negan slipped out of his leather jacket. "No coffee, no fucking music." He flung it onto the ugly armchair with the tacky crochet pillow and turned to Rick, embracing him loosely, a hand on the small of his back. "But you wanna show me your bedroom." He leaned in for a kiss, a gentle one, then pulled back to look into blue eyes. "Right?"

It was astonishing to Rick how much he wanted to agree. How perfectly right it seemed to feel this tall, masculine body against his own. How much he craved another kiss and more of this alluring deep voice. But still, there was a little piece of him that was truly afraid, poking him with worries of what this would mean. For his future, his family, his whole life. His own sanity. "What about Aids." He had no idea where the question came from and why his voice sounded so fractious.

But Negan didn't seem to be offended at all, just kissed again, his hand sliding deeper to squeeze a perky ass cheek. "You will put a condom on me."   

Rick's lips parted automatically, hearing himself moan into this blunt man's mouth when experienced fingers massaged his hidden ass crack. A part of his body that had never received any attention from anyone at all before, other than from himself. Secretly, in the shower, leaving him feeling ashamed and guilty for hours and days afterwards. But now it felt so good and right. He was firmly pulled against a solid body, against muscle, beard and musky smell. His heart thumping excitedly when he felt the man's rock hard bulge nudging into his hip. It spurred him on, numbed his protesting mind and made his blood boil. He reached up to touch the back of Negan's neck, to hold him there and feel short hair underneath his palm. He wrapped an arm around the man's waist, pressing himself closer, moaning, and intensified the kiss. He wanted more. Much, much more.

"You wanna show me your fuckin' bedroom."

The words were almost hissed against his lips, possessive and urgent, not a question but an order. He followed it like a blind man follows the voice of God. He tried not to think, tried to ignore the toy truck and baseball glove scattered somewhere on the stairs, didn't switch the lights on and pretended the whole room wouldn't smell like Lori's favorite body lotion.

He was walked backwards into the wall, right next to a vanity with lots of jewelry and makeup on it. A purple perfume bottle fell with a thud on the thick carpeting when his wrists were pinned above his head and strong hips rolled against his middle, setting his insides on fire. He closed his eyes and tipped his head to the left, giving access to this ravishing mouth, licking and biting his neck. The snap buttons of his denim shirt popped open and he exhaled a shattered breath as a cool hand snaked from his bare chest down to his stomach and over his side onto his back, dragging a trail of goosebumps along. He arched into the touch, arched into this superior body and heard himself pant as he rutted against the hard dick he felt, thrilled that he was the one who had caused it. The shirt was pulled off his shoulders and flung somewhere his wife wouldn't have approved of. A firm hand grabbed him by the belt buckle and pushed him hard into the wall while an aggressive tongue performed a pornographic kiss in his mouth. Deftly fingers had the belt open and out of its loops in ten seconds, holding it daringly for a moment of deliberation before it fell to the floor.

The fly of tight jeans was unceremoniously unbuttoned and Negan pulled back, watching heavy-lidded eyes as he shoved his hand past the waistband of outdated Walmart underwear, fondling the wet cock he found. "Look at that." He stroked it skillfully, adoring how the man's lips parted to release soft puffs of breath.  "Fuckin' drippin' for me."

Rick wanted to say something. Ask if Negan brought a condom. Warn that he wouldn't last very long. Apologize for his hideous underwear. But none of it came out. Instead, he tipped his head back against the wall and closed his eyes, panting. Knowing he was watched and it made him even harder.

"Hm, that's nice, right." Negan reveled at the sight, leaning in to lick the corner of Rick's mouth while he slowly pumped the man's dick. "You want me in your bed?" Heavy eyes fluttered open for a second but fell shut again right away with a whimpered moan. "Yeah... I'll make you cum in that bed... make you fuckin' remember me for the rest of your life. Every night before you go to sleep you'll think of that guy that made you feel so god damn fuckin' good." He licked again, dipping his tongue briefly between slightly parted lips as he spread a gush of precum around a swollen cockhead. "Make you think of the guy that treated you like the fuckin' gorgeous stud you are." He didn't expect a spoken reply, and was completely content with the sight of helpless arousal he was presented with. A deep chuckle rumbled from the depth of his chest and he stepped back, a couple of feet, and just like that started to undress. He kicked his boots off, not taking his eyes off the desperate man he had left behind at the wall with open pants and raging erection. One-handedly and almost smugly he popped the five buttons of his own pants open, his tongue darting out to wet his lips when Rick's eyes followed his every move. He pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it somewhere on a 199,- dresser from Target, making a framed picture fall over that showed a happy couple on their wedding day 11 years ago.

Rick didn't even notice. His aroused mind focussed on the man standing in the middle of his dim bedroom, like the manifestation of his most secret, private dreams and wishes. Undressing with a sly smirk on his perfect lips while he radiated an unreal confidence that electrified the whole space, making the fine hair on his arms and legs stand. Broad shoulders, long legs, a firm chest and stomach covered in dark hair. Some rebellious black tattoos. A mysterious white bandage around his wrist, the only piece of fabric that didn't land on a recently shampooed carpet.

"Come here."

Rick was beckoned closer by two fingers and softly guided to his knees by a big hand, safely resting on his head, dulling his racing heart. He wasn't asked to suck, his lips found the way on an impressive erection on their own. The taste was new but seemed somehow familiar, almost comforting. Long fingers played with his hair and his stomach flipped when he heard a satisfied groan, followed by deep, rewarding words.

"Yeah, good job... treating me so nicely."

A tiny part of his brain felt diminished and affronted, while the overwhelming rest suggested to worship this man forever. An odd sense of pride welled through his chest and he opened his mouth wider, made his hands work harder, trying to do all the things he always fantasized about when he jerked off alone in the bathroom while his wife was long asleep. He glanced up and could see how the expression on Negan's face changed from playful to pure, dark lust. He could feel the man's hips moving and fingers tightening in his hair. Intoxicating male scent. A husky voice telling him sweet vulgarities. It was such a turn on, his entire lower body throbbed and pulsed with numb heat. He gagged once and wanted to apologize but was grabbed by the chin and pulled up to his feet, almost harshly.   

"Let me see what I taste like on that fuckin' pretty tongue."

Before his brain was able to comprehend the request, he was taken and devoured in an open-mouthed, messy kiss, far more obscene than anything these four walls had ever witnessed. Rough hands dug into his invitingly open pants, kneading his bare ass, pulling his cheeks apart to tease this horribly private spot he wouldn't even dare to call by its rightful name. But he didn't protest. He tensed for just a second and then wrapped his arms around his lover's neck, deepening the kiss. The pad of a broad thumb circled the tight muscle between his butt cheeks, making his heart hammer in his chest. Making him realize what was about to happen. What this man wanted from him, why he was here.

And just like a confirmation, Negan pulled back an inch. "You have some lube here?"

Rick opened his eyes, having trouble to focus and make his voice work. "In the nightstand."  

"Good." Negan nipped the man's top lip. "Get it and lie down on the bed for me."

Something hot shot from Rick's chest into his lower regions at the sound of the bold order. Commanding but seductive at the same time. A part of his mind felt piqued and sent a defiant flicker through his eyes.

It made the right corner of Negan's mouth curl up into a challenging smirk. "Chop chop."  He wagged his brows once, making a step back and then watched with satisfaction as his wish was granted. Adorable bow legs in dangerously low hanging pants, a flustered expression on a prettily blushed face, a confused brain trying to remember in which of the three drawers of his wife's nightstand the requested lubricant might be stored.

Negan pursed his lips, enjoying every little bit of it, stroked himself lazily for half a minute and then fished for his pants and the contents of his left pocket. A black latex glove and a square little foil package. "Mhm..." He dropped his pants again and fixed his eyes firmly on the nervous man lying in the middle of a marital bed as he stepped closer, grabbing the heel of one of the well worn western boots to pull it off. "Nice." He tossed the boot somewhere near the laundry basket and pulled the other off as well, dropping it right in front of the bed. "You look fuckin' good on those sheets."

Rick was paralyzed, staring at the man standing like a predator at the bottom of the bed. He registered vaguely as a condom was thrown on the pillow next to his head and then lifted his butt off the mattress when blunt hands gripped the fabric of his good 65 dollar American Eagle jeans to drag them harshly down his legs along with the last bit of resistance his body possessed.

A dark sparkle went through Negan's eyes as he carelessly dropped the pair of tight denims and examined the man he had chosen for the night. He straightened to his full height and widened his stance a bit, giving a small wave with two fingers. "Take them off for me."     

His rapid heartbeat made Rick's throat tight. He knew he was supposed to take his underwear off, and he was surprised how easily his horniness won over his embarrassment as if this commanding stranger had put him under a spell. The urge to please him and do as told was overwhelming. And so he complied. Took the thin waistband of his underwear, the one with the little hole at the seam and half washed-off word 'Athletic', and awkwardly pulled it down, exposing himself fully and got instantly rewarded with praising words, deep and full of arousal but softened with a hint of silk to caress his agitated mind.

"Yeah, good job... you wanna show me that gorgeous body." The slightest hint of a smile curved Negan's lips, keeping his gaze firmly on dazed blue eyes as he put a single, black rubber glove on his right hand, letting the rim snap against his wrist. "You also wanna spread your legs for me." He lifted a knee onto the bed and effectively helped to implement the order by moving purposefully forward, giving the man not much of a choice other than opening his legs to make some room for him.

Rick felt his mouth getting dry, his rapidly drumming heart stopping for a moment when slightly cool legs brushed the insides of his thighs. He stared up at the man towering over him and couldn't help but to nervously cover his crotch. "What's the glove for?"

"What's the glove for?" Negan answered casually as he reached for the condom and tore the packaging open. "It's what I wear if I want to play with a pretty ass." He handed it to his lover, expecting it to be put on him. "I love seeing some nice slick rubber vanishing in a sweet fucking pink hole."      

It had been more than ten years since Rick had used a condom and his fingers trembled for various reasons as he fumbled the small object out of its pre-opened package. He lifted his head out of the pillows and held his breath, searching eye-contact just for a moment before he avoided his gaze and tried his best to roll the thin sheet over a twitching cock. It didn't seem to fit first and he exhaled the breath he had been holding when he managed to fulfill the task eventually, glancing up again, hoping for praise.

He got even more than that. The tall man kneeling between his legs bent down, slowly leaning over him, his hands propped left and right from his head, looking at him as if he was the most beautiful thing in the house.

"Thank you so much." Negan studied the man's mesmerized face, then bent down for a kiss, keeping his eyes open. "Glad you changed your mind and took me home." A shy tongue appeared in search for more and he gave it a broad lick. "Would have sucked not to have you."         

A wave of pride warmed Rick's insides, followed by a completely new sensation in his stomach, feeling like a horde of butterflies swarming through his insides. He curled a hand around the back of Negan's neck and automatically pulled his knees up to give better access to everything this perfect person wanted.

Negan groaned into the kiss, making it deep and sensual, enraptured by the man's affection. He touched their foreheads together when he pulled back, just for a moment before he sat back up and reached for the lube. It was a slender pink bottle, still almost full. He squinted at the label, his dick disgustedly shrinking half an inch. _Velvet. Female Stimulating Lubricant_. "Fucking 'Gentle Peach'?" He held the bottle up accusingly.

Rick was a bit out of breath, shrugging. "My wife suffers from vaginal dryness since the baby was born."

Negan's squint grew deeper. "You said he's ten."

Rick shrugged again, realizing the full undeniable sadness of his sex-life.

"Christ, boy..." Negan sighed with a shake of his head but opened the bottle anyway and squirted a large amount on his gloved hand, instantly scenting the air with a sweet, peachy aroma.

A small glare formed on Rick's heated features. "I'm not a boy." He couldn't believe he had told this gorgeous man about his wife's vagina.

"No?" Negan moved to lie next to Rick, kissing him while bringing his slicked-up fingers directly between warm butt cheeks. "Thought you wanna spread your legs for me like a good boy." He grazed soft lips with his teeth, spreading the lube along the man's crack. "Let me finger that tight ass."

Rick tensed for a second, then exhaled a shattered breath, hot, numb pressure throbbing somewhere inside his lower abdomen. He craned his head back and widened his thighs, feeling like the naughtiest person ever born.

"Good job." Negan encouraged in low voice, massaging the tight muscle with slight pressure. "Put your hands down. You wanna hold yourself open for me." There was a moment of hesitation before his order was followed and he used four fingers, side by side, to caress the exposed area, in-between circling its offered opening. "Yeah, show me your hole, boy. You ever had a finger up there? Tell me."

Rick squeezed his eyes shut, digging ten fingernails into his cheeks as he pulled them apart. "Yes."

"Mhm." Negan observed the man's facial expression, pressing two fingers against the muscle. "You fingered yourself? Thought of a hot guy doing it, didn't you..." He got a nod with a small moan, "Yeah, you did." and build up more pressure. "You wanna push out for me."

Rick didn't open his eyes but turned his face to the right, searching more contact to that omniscient man with the comforting voice. He held his breath and did as he was told, his whole body growing stiff when he felt something slick and wide pressing into him.

"Mh." Negan nudged a glowing face with his nose. "You wanna breathe." He retracted his finger and in the same second pushed it in again, while massaging the man's crack soothingly with the pad of his thumb.    

A slight sheen of sweat build on Rick's forehead and on his upper body. He exhaled, trying to relax. His mind wasn't sure what to make of the strange intrusion, but his body seemed to like it. The rubber covered fingers made his cock twitch and his insides throb with excitement. He pulled his cheeks apart and with a deep breath pushed out, relaxing his muscles, feeling two long fingers sliding into him and a deep, rewarding voice speaking right into his ear.

"Yeah, that's a good boy... let me play with that gorgeous hole."

It set his body on fire, made the soles of his feet tingle and his back arch. Every fiber of his mind and body focused on this man who had not only taken over his house and bedroom with his dominating presence but also all of him, from head to toe. He was everywhere. His touch, his smell, his voice, he was all around him, exerting control in every way possible. Never had he had sex like that where he was the one being taken and handled, where he wasn't supposed to act and think and worry about his performance. It was all taken off his shoulders, lifted like a heavy weight to leave him with nothing but enjoyment and a feeling of comforting security nobody had ever given him before.

He listened to the man's voice, blindly followed the commands given and felt frighteningly in tune with this tall, masculine body playing him like a fiddle. Slick fingers moving in and out, massaging him expertly from the inside, touching him in places he hadn't even known were part of his body. He moved with this big, skilled hand, heard himself groan and agree to obscene little questions. He parted his lips for a devilish wet tongue, he spread his ass cheeks on command for a deeper penetration and felt a gush of pre-cum drench his bare stomach when his prostate was easily found and treated with utmost expertise.

"Yeah, let me hear how much you fuckin' like me..." Negan hissed against his lover's mouth when he moaned loudly and arched off the mattress. "You want my dick in that fuckin' tight hole? Tell me. Should I be the first to fuck you, Rick?" He received something similar to a nod, while the man fucked himself on three black, slick fingers. "Hmm... I didn't quite catch that..." He licked the corner of a damp mouth, pressing his fingers deeper before twisting them. "You will have to speak up. What do you want?"

Rick could feel his cheeks glow, sure something in him would explode any moment. The words were on the tip of his tongue and made his voice sound weirdly croaky when they finally came out. "Your dick."  

Negan licked again, a deep chuckle rumbling from his chest.  "Yes, you do." He pulled his fingers back and sat up, moving to kneel between obediently spread legs. He was watched through heavy-lidded eyes as he pulled his used latex glove off and threw it on the floor, before he grabbed the lube again, generously spreading it everywhere he thought it was necessary. "Mhm, keep your eyes on me. I like that." He lifted his brows with the hint of a smug smirk and tossed the peach scented bottle somewhere on the nightstand, making a whimsical vintage alarm clock from Pottery Barn fall over with a metallic clank. "Hands up, next to your head."

Rick didn't question the order. He complied in an instant. The pounding in his chest wasn't fear, it was anticipation and excitement, a thrill he had never experienced before. The outside world blurred away, leaving nothing but Him. This beautiful man hovering over him. That firm chest covered in dark hair, broad shoulders, soft lips kissing him roughly, sexily ruffled hair, deep lust in daring eyes, raspy voice dripping with authority. He felt the heat coming off of Negan's body, strength and control in an unbelievable scale.

His lungs felt crushed when his legs were folded back by strong hands and the rest of his breath caught in his throat when the thick, swollen head of another man's cock nudged against his muscle, making it contract and then burn in protest as it was breached, slow but steadily.  The pressure was immense, making him pant and wince and lose his bravery for a moment, before his chest filled with fluffy clouds of pride because he was told how good he was and how amazing he felt. His name rolled in deep, husky tone off these addicting lips. He was asked to breathe and relax, focus on just one thing. Negan.   

And he did, giving up the last bit of control and allowed his body to open up,  move with every thrust of powerful hips. Allowed to be rocked and fucked into the ergonomic mattress of his conjugal bed by a man he had picked up at a gay bar. It was like a dream, scary but so incredibly good that he never wanted to wake up from it.

He gasped with another deep thrust that brought far more bliss than discomfort and stared up at Negan's face, seeing his jaw clenched, nostrils flaring, sweat glistening on his forehead. Masculine, strong, exciting. The opposite of everything he was used to. And he couldn't help the little smirk tugging the corner of his mouth before he wrapped his legs around the man's waist and disobeyed his order when he closed his eyes, completely lost in pure pleasure.

\----

It was Sunday and not even seven o'clock when Rick woke up, feeling groggy, hungover and strangely sore. He lifted his head from a bare mattress, squinting an eye when he looked around, confused by the lack of pillows. An empty condom packaging lay on the nightstand, next to a bottle of lubricant for women and a message on a slip of paper, written in elegant handwriting. He took it, his heart stumbling when he remembered the events of last night.

_**She'll come back because you are awesome!** _

_**And you wanna send me a message with your number so I can give you a call** _

_**+358 40 7767 480** _

_**Negan** _

He read it three times, decided that he surely wouldn't send any messages, then put the note back on the nightstand and dug his face into the sheets. They were a mess, hopelessly rumpled, stained with lube and the remains of his climax. And they smelled like heaven. Like a tall, handsome stranger. Leather, musky cologne and the intoxicating intimate scent of skin and hair. It made his guts tingle and stomach flip. It made him grab the note again to read it a fourth time. Before he fished for his phone and felt his pulse throb in his throat and ears when he typed a message. Just a few numbers and his name and he needed almost three minutes before he pushed the button to really send it, regretting it instantly.

The phone landed somewhere at the bottom end of the bed when he got up to take a piss and brush his teeth because he really didn't care whether there would be a call or not. But he turned the water off three times and opened the bathroom door, thinking he might have heard his ringtone.

Then he eyed the silent phone angrily while he cleaned up the mess in the bedroom, all the bedding on the floor, his boots, his belt, a crinkled black latex glove that he picked up with a blush on his face and hot tingles swirling through his chest.

He carried the phone downstairs and cursed the super loud juicer before he sat down to have his English muffin and fresh orange juice on the couch, because the table seemed like an awfully lonely place to have breakfast.

At 8:08 AM his heart skipped a beat and he considered to spit the mouthful of muffin back out, when the phone finally rang. He took it, pretending that he was annoyed to be interrupted at breakfast on a Sunday morning, but the butterflies in his belly betrayed him as soon as he saw the number on the screen. **_+358 40 7767 480_**

He waited 13 seconds, swallowed a mouthful of food and tried for a casual tone when he pushed the button. "Grimes."

"Did you smell your sheets?"

The blunt question was asked in deep, cocky tone and made him squint and glare at his orange juice. "No."

Negan chuckled. "How are you doing, Rick Grimes. Slept well?"

The second question sounded genuinely interested and friendly, melting all hostile feelings that had gathered in Rick's chest. "A bit hungover." He wanted to add 'and sore', having the urge to share the information, but then didn't.

"Hm. You wanna hydrate and eat." Negan took a sip of his green juice. "And then call yourself a taxi and come here. There's something I wanna discuss with you." He got up from the couch, carrying his empty glass to the kitchen, putting it into the sink. "In an hour, I'll send you the address."

Rick didn't have the chance to protest or express his happiness over the unexpected invitation before the call was disconnected. He squinted at the display, thinking how impudent this guy was and how he would surely not go anywhere on a Sunday morning...

...but then his phone beeped with a message and he forgot all the reasons speaking against it.

_**+358 40 7767 480** _

_**Leather Factory, 1660 Peachtree St, NE Atlanta, GA 30309** _

_**Chop, chop, I miss ya :)**_  
  
   
      
  


**Author's Note:**

> This one-shot is set 2010 in the Aftercare timeline (7 years before Aftercare 'starts'), explaining how Negan and Rick met.


End file.
